Seven Red

So I totally maced this three year-old today.

We have babygirl in a new daycare, since the old one only went up to age two. It’s a better arrangement for us, both cheaper and closer, but she and I seem to have more transition anxiety than babygirl about it. First off, it’s a Montessori daycare. I don’t really know what that means, and I’m not sure I really care to know, but it does seem weirdly obsessed with time structures. When I brought her in last week to get a look at the place, she immediately went for a group of toys placed on a shelf. One of the teachers sprang into action, pulling the toys out of babygirl’s hands and noting that it was currently “free play time,” while those toys were strictly for “work time.” These folks need to catch up on our new economy! Who separates play from work time anymore? During another portion of the day, she explained, they were to sit cross-legged in a circle and demonstrate the functioning of yet another group of toys. She’s two years friggin’ old. But what the hell do I know about early childhood development, really? Not much, truth be told, so I kinda shrug. At least they’re not crazy fundamentalists. I guess.

But back to my macing of the three year-old. Apparently, in the new school, we are not to leave sunblock with the daycare providers, but rather apply it before school. So, the spray-on sunblock that we left in her “cubby” was to be removed from there immediately, and I sorta got that part, because now the kids can get their hands on this stuff in a way they couldn’t at the 15-months to two-year school. Also, it is Montessori doctrine that sunblock can magically last 8 hours on a toddler’s skin if he or she can silently demonstrate the way it works to the other kids. So the teacher, treating me like a complete imbecile for not having fathomed out these intricacies (damned if I even knew she had sunblock), hands me the spray on sunblock, which I immediately attempt to shove in the pocket of my slacks. At precisely this moment, some other kid from the class runs up tugging on my pants for some reason, blabbering something or other. So, I’m pushing down – stupidly, I’ll admit – on the top of the sunblock, and he’s directly in front of me, and suddenly there’s a mist. I maced this kid like a Seattle riot cop. Full on blast to the face with the spray-on sunblock. He grabs his face, staggers back, but then removes his hands and appears to be fine, if a little surprised. Take that, fucker. But the Montessori teachers fly into panic mode, dragging the poor kid into the bathroom for the Defcon 4 eye treatment, which I guess inspired some confidence that they’d take chemical attacks on my own daughter reasonably seriously. Trust me, if they thought I was an imbecile before, my general dumbfuckness is now permanently cemented in their memories. Yeah, that’s the guy who maced little Johnny like he was a kerchiefed environmentalist! Welcome to the fuckin’ Terrordome, Johnny!

As you contemplate my day, some sleepy pics of babygirl. This is usually how we find her at about 10pm, covers thrown off and evidence of significant play prior to falling asleep. Why one shoe? Why?

So, we get her set up again, and hopefully don’t have to deal with her again until morning. Yes. Good sleeper. The insane forty minute tantrums probably help in that regard…

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